


Ink Stains and Eavesdropping

by Alania_Black



Series: 366 fics for 2016 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 02:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania_Black/pseuds/Alania_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus arrived home late from work, tired and sticky-hot and ready to just curl up in bed with his husbands, and saw the old parchment on the table. The picture on it was all too familiar, Seamus’ favourite drawing of all Dean’s artwork, and the long held, once painful memories it evoked…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink Stains and Eavesdropping

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5 of my attempt to write/post a fic every day of 2016.
> 
> This is a sequel to my fic [Ink Stains](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2514491/1/Ink-Stains), which I wrote a long time ago. It follows directly after but you don't have to read that one at all to understand this one (but go read it anyway - it isn't brilliantly written but it's still a sweet story!)
> 
>  **Series note:**  
>  I am working on writing a fic every day of 2016, so I don't have time to re-edit each piece on the day (I have other things going on as well), however I have a strategy in place for editing the fics so there will be a polished version available soon. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you would not comment with typos and suchlike until I've published the edited version.

_2037, Weasley-Thomas-Finnegan Residence._

_Seamus arrived home late from work, tired and sticky-hot and ready to just curl up in bed with his husbands. He realised shortly after arriving that they had decided not to wait for him, and had gone on up to bed already. He was planning on following – if he was lucky he could join in whatever fun they might be having before sleep – when he saw the old parchment on the table. The picture on it was all too familiar, Seamus’ favourite drawing of all Dean’s artwork, and the long held, once painful memories it evoked…_

Harry had started it. Well, rather, Harry had introduced the topic to Seamus’ conscience, at which point Seamus’ subconscious pointed out that it had been telling him this for a good year now. 

Seamus had been planning his seduction of Harry for several days, taking his sweet time with the other boy, and had hardly been surprised when they’d finally fallen into bed together. Even the reluctance on Harry’s part to do more than touch each other hadn’t dulled the sweetness of his victory, and he was considering another round when they recovered when Harry dropped his bombshell. 

“I think Dean fancies Neville.” He murmured sleepily. “He was drawing him again in the Common Room.” Harry’s words settled into Seamus’ stomach like a block of ice, spreading numbly through his body. 

“Dean draws everyone. It doesn’t mean anything. Dean’s not gay, he can’t fancy Neville.” He replied woodenly. Harry only snorted in reply. 

“Of course he can. He’s only dated Ginny –I can say for definite that’s not proof he’s straight! Maybe an underlying crush on Ron...” Crush on Ron? 

“You have a crush on Ron?” He squeaked quietly, trying to distract Harry from this disturbing line of conversation. He felt Harry wriggle uncomfortably. 

“A bit, I suppose. Not enough to hurt Hermione with it though.” Seamus supposed that made sense, since it was obvious to everyone except the hapless couple that Ron and Hermione were in love with each other. “Dean draws Neville more than he draws any of us. Colin once said Neville was photogenic. Good at being in pictures, something about his facial structure. But I think it’s more than that, for Dean.” 

“Mmm… Don’t care about Dean.” Seamus lied blatantly, before trying to distract Harry with the one skill he knew best: slow, mind-numbing strokes over his erection. 

It didn’t stop Seamus from obsessing over it, watching Dean even more than he usually did. Harry was right, Dean did watch Neville a lot – and Neville watched Dean in return. Sometimes when he was watching, something would come over Neville and he would blush and look away. Occasionally his gaze would fall then to Seamus’ watchful eyes, his flush would deepen and his head would drop in an endearing show of shyness. Usually he’d make his excuses and his escape then, scurrying away from them to hide in his quiet corner. 

Other times he’d look away, back to Dean. Once, one memorable occasion, he’d met Seamus’ gaze and held it until Seamus had been the one to look away. He’d looked back to Dean, who was watching both of them, but mostly Neville. Watching and drawing and it had been Seamus who’d left then, going to his refuge in his bed and trying to pretend his heart wasn’t breaking. 

*****

Almost a week after his conversation with Harry, Seamus had been in the Common Room, considering seducing Ron, when Dean and Neville had passed through. Dean was carrying his art stuff and Neville was sporting a blush worthy of one of his best roses. Seamus’ curiosity had been peaked, and his jealousy. It was obvious, whether or not they’d admit it, that Dean and Neville had become Dean-and-Neville, and he was out in the cold, the only man (men) he’d ever believed he could love gone from his reach. 

It took two days before Dean was gone enough that Seamus could sneak a peek at his art, and a while longer before he worked up the courage to. The first art book he came across was filled with pictures of everything from the gang in the Common Room (Neville stilling practically on his lap, Hermione and Ron in the other chair with Harry on the floor in front of them, looking for all the world like he belongs there; Ginny perched on the edge of the couch, there but not with them) to a huge building he recognises as St Paul’s Cathedral from his Da’s attempts to keep his Muggle heritage alive as well. 

He enjoyed the pictures. He loved the way Dean’s coal, and ink and paint had lovingly recreated them all, but they weren’t what he was looking for. So he tried the next one, fingers dancing nervously over the cover before he finally opened it. The picture on the top was it: Neville, naked and beautiful on a red couch, at once indecent and delicate. He could see in this moment why Dean loved Neville, not just for the physical beauty; but also for the gentle strength in posing for this, the obvious love it must have taken to do this for Dean. Seamus swallowed painfully and nearly closed the book, but guiltily copied the picture at the last moment. He hid it under his pillow and refused to think about it for a week. 

When he did think about it again, he’d woken from a wet dream about a couch and paint and two boys loving each other. He dug the picture out surreptitiously and looked at it, eyes tracing the lines in the faint light from his wand, curtains tightly closed. His hand traced the lump beneath his covers absently, rubbing harder as he imagined Neville laying like this, imagined Dean arranging him, imagined Dean stroking dark hands over his soft, pale skin. With one final image in mind, of a gentle kiss, Seamus came into his pyjamas. 

He couldn’t look them in the eye after that, taking to avoiding Dean and watching Neville take his place out of the corners of his eyes. He knew it was hurting his friend, knew it was a cruel thing to do to both of them, but the sheer embarrassment and addiction he felt meant that he couldn’t resist it. Every time he looked at them he was overcome with humiliated arousal and overwhelming guilt at his betrayal of his friends. 

His watching revealed a new dimension to their relationship, as the days passed. Nevile grew paler, and as the days turned to weeks, began to noticeably lose weight. He looked awkward, a shadow of himself. And they argued, Neville mostly, with Dean becoming strained and sad. It was a strange sight to Seamus, watching normally shy and sweet Neville start arguments, especially with the man he was supposed to love. 

He found out why, eventually, and it hurt more than he could have ever expected it to. 

“He’s homophobic, that’s all Neville, and it won’t change whether you leave me or not. I’ll still be gay and he’ll still be unable to come round to it.” Seamus stopped sort outside the doorway to the room, the last one of the five to arrive for the night. He winced at the depressed, disappointed tone to Dean’s voice. The idea that Neville wanted to leave Dean because of this homophobic jerk was awful. 

“I don’t think he’s homophobic,” Ron chimed in, “he’s shagged more guys than the rest of us put together!” 

“I can vouch for that,” Harry added, “And I know Seamus, he loves you far too much to let something like this come between you. You should try talking to him, his problem could be something completely different.” 

“Harry, honestly, what else could it be?” Neville rasped sadly. “Why else would Seamus turn away from us like this, ignore us and avoid us?” Jealousy, Seamus thinks, jealousy and guilt and lust. He felt so guilty for hurting his friends with this, just because he couldn’t handle his emotions. 

Seamus tried to change after that; began to meet Dean’s eyes, spend more time with Neville. At first, he made it convenient, just laughing at one of Dean’s jokes while the group sat around together, meeting his eyes like he used to do before things got so complicated. When Neville needed help on an essay, Seamus offered gentle, causal advice. Slowly, it grew further and further until the day Seamus found himself in Neville’s Greenhouse area with one of Neville’s favourite sweets. 

“Here, something to see you through to dinner.” He offered warmly. Neville flushed and grinned happily. 

“You didn’t have to…” Neville murmured depreciatingly, but took the sweet easily enough. 

“Of course I did, you’ve lost weight.” Seamus replied, stroking a still hollow cheekbone. “You looked better before.” Neville’s flush now is hot and embarrassed, but Seamus sees something like interest, and confusion, in his eyes. And then wide-eyed comprehension. 

“Seamus…” Neville murmurs softly. Seamus wet his lips on instinct, but backed away and shook his head. 

“Don’t, Neville. Eat your sweet. I’ll see you at dinner.” He backed off further, no longer meeting Neville’s eyes. 

“You can’t just…” Sweep this under the rug? Pretend you’re not dating my best friend, who I also happen to be in love with? Seamus couldn’t bear to let Neville finish his sentence, and Neville didn’t seem to be capable of it anyway. 

“I can.” Seamus replied firmly, cutting Neville’s train of thought off. “I didn’t deal too well to begin with, I’ll admit, but I can deal with it now. You just have to pretend you don’t know and go on being happy with Dean. Please, Neville.” He begged softly, gaze flicking up to Neville’s shocked face, before he fled the Greenhouse. 

They were back to normal by dinner time. Neville had obviously not told anyone, even Dean, what he thought he’d figured out about Seamus. Seamus returned to his carefree friendly behaviour. He hoped desperately that things could continue normally, and they could just forget. But he had forgotten to factor in the power of Neville and Dean’s relationship, and had not thought to consider that Neville would tell Dean after dinner. 

He went to the Pitch for a while to watch Harry and Ron at Quidditch practice, before he went back to their Dorm, hoping it was empty and he could spend a while alone with Dean’s drawing of Neville. But they were both in the Dorm when he arrived, unfortunately, and seemed determined to speak to Seamus. Too weak and tired to resist, he flopped down on Dean’s bed with them, and gamely joined in their conversation. Until he realised what they were talking about. 

“Neville says he thinks you have a crush on him.” Dean said softly, one hand stroking through Neville’s hair. Seamus blushed awkwardly, glanced at Neville before he looked away from them both. 

“What do you think?” He asked softly. 

“I think it’s entirely possible. Call me biased of course, but I think Neville is pretty hot.” Dean replied, his tone careful and gentle. 

“What if I said I had a crush on you?” Seamus murmured softly, barely able to look at Dean. 

“I’d say that also sounds possible.” Dean replied cautiously. “Do you have a crush on me?” 

“No,” Seamus murmured, and caught a flash of hurt from both of them. His heart turned over. “I’m in love with you.” He announced to the room, not meeting either of their eyes or talking to either of them directly. 

“In love?” Neville gasped. “With who? Which one of us?” 

“What if I said I’m in love with both of you?” 

“Well, are you?” Dean asked impatiently. Seamus swallowed, and nodded. 

“Oh.” Neville whispered faintly. Seamus waited for another response for a few moments, before quietly leaving the room. 

Seamus heard nothing more about it for a few days, until the next Quidditch practice. He came back to the Dorm to find Neville and Dean there already again, but this time on his bed. Neville was twitching uncomfortably, Dean was soothing him with his normal calmness and gentle touches. Seamus nervously joined them, perching on the edge of his own bed. 

“What’s this, then?” He asked, studying both of them. 

“A seduction, if you will.” Dean replied, shooting him a smutty grin. Seamus chuckled softly. 

“You two trying to seduce me?” He asked incredulously. Dean chuckled. 

“Looks to me like we’re on the same page. Neville’s the one who needs seducing. See, Nev’s had a bit of a thing for you for a while, and I’ve always loved you. But he’s shy. You up for helping my seduce him?” 

Seamus grinned broadly and stroked Neville’s hand, moving closer to him. “Well, the first part of a successful seduction, you shouldn’t be wearing so much…” He undid the buttons on Neville’s robe, and pushed off his shoulders, exposing his school shirt and trousers. Dean tugged Neville’s shoes and socks off as well, rubbing his feet carefully. Seamus and Dean stripped down to just their shirts and trousers as well, before Dean gently laid Neville on the bed and settled beside him. Seamus straddled him, and brushed his hand over Neville’s cheek gently. 

“You want this? Both of you?” He asked, dropping the confident mask and allowing them to see his worry. Dean tangled his hand in Seamus’ and smiled at him, the smile widening when Neville also caught his hand. 

“We want this, I promise. We’ve talked about it, a lot over the last couple of days – we both like you. We agreed that we’re all capable of loving each other equally.” Dean told him. Neville took the initiative and reached up to pull Seamus down into a kiss. 

_Seamus smiled and traced familiar lines over the parchment, thinking of times he had only this image for comfort. He placed it carefully back into Dean’s portfolio, before scurrying to the bedroom. He opened the door on a long-familiar sight of his husbands curled in bed together, Neville deeply asleep and Dean halfway there. Seamus shed his robes and slid in behind him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before leaning over to kiss their sleeping husband._


End file.
